Enough For Now
by JDantes15
Summary: Gajeel relives some unpleasant memories on a rainy day, and Levy is the only one who can make him smile again. Or is it the other way around? Two Shot. GajeelXLevy.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing. All rights belong to Hiro Mashima.

 _Higher still and higher_

 _From the earth thou springest_

 _Like a cloud of fire;_

 _The deep blue thou wingest,_

 _And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest._

 _-Percy Bysshe Shelley "To a Sky-Lark"_

Sometimes he thought he could forget. Sometimes, when the corners of her mouth lifted and the sun was warm and bright, he thought he could forget. Unfortunately for Gajeel Redfox, she wasn't always there and the sun did not always shine.

"Levy," breathed Gajeel, sitting upright with a gasp. He was met only with the sound of his own panicked breathing and the pouring rain outside. He swung his legs over the bed, putting his head in his hands wearily. It had been raining for three days, and for whatever reason, the gloomy atmosphere had triggered the memories—recurring nightmares, really—of his own violence and cowardice, of when and how he had first met Levy.

He sighed and rose, moving to the window silently. He could not forgive himself. She had forgiven him, and tomorrow he would greet her with a "Shrimp," and she would scowl and then smile in the most adorable way he'd ever seen and it would all be fine. Right? An image of her battered little frame flashed in front of his eyes and he slammed his fist against the wall, splintering the wood.

"Levy again?"

"Shut the hell up," snarled Gajeel. Lily exited silently, knowing better than to aggravate Gajeel in this mood. Gajeel felt him leave and decided to ignore the guilt gnawing at him. It would be morning soon, and it would be fine.

Approximately two hours and seven minutes later, Gajeel stalked into the guild and slumped at the bar. At this hour, Mirajane was the only one here.

"Rough night?" she asked sympathetically.

"Nah, just tired," grunted Gajeel. He really did not feel like talking about his nightmares.

"Do you want something?" asked Mira. Gajeel considered this for a moment.

Drunkenness did serve its purpose sometimes…then he shook his head. Levy would be coming in later.

"OK, just let me know," said Mira, moving away. Gajeel slumped back down, listening to the pouring rain outside dully. Suddenly he straightened. He heard the slosh of feet through puddles even as he caught Levy's distinct scent. He moved to open the door (she was carrying books; he could tell from her slightly labored breathing), but he stopped himself and turned back to the bar. He heard her struggle in, bringing the chill air with her, and his shoulders tensed as she almost slipped. The wood of the oft-abused bar was beginning to crack under his grip. He couldn't go to her. He couldn't forgive himself. He was…dark, and evil and everything about him was so very, very wrong for her.

He slipped off the bar stool and retreated into a corner quietly. He shouldn't watch her like this. It wasn't fair to her, and he didn't deserve to even _look_ at her. Nonetheless, he looked up, guilt smoldering in his eyes. She hadn't seen him, and was already opening a book that was almost bigger than she was. He almost smiled as she pushed her glasses up and with one small hand on the page, began to read intently. Minutes passed, and Gajeel automatically relaxed, soothed by Levy's scent and the lulling sound of rainfall. He fell asleep watching her.

The next time he woke, it was because the sun was directly in his eyes. He squinted, stirring sleepily. Then he stiffened. The guild was bustling and noisy, but where had Levy gone? Then his mind caught up with his senses and he turned. Levy sat cross-legged on the bench at his side, absorbed in another giant book.

"Hey Shrimp," said Gajeel automatically. Levy instantly looked up and scowled.

"I'm not a shrimp," she said, and then smiled. "You must have been tired." The smile fell from Gajeel's lips. Her words brought back the nightmares and the night, and images of a cruel torture jumped into his mind unbidden. He winced and turned away. He was the darkness. She was…too bright, too far away, too happy. A demon could not approach that light.

"Gajeel?" asked Levy. Gajeel couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Shame colored his eyes a dull red. Then he felt a slender hand rest on his shoulder.

"It's OK," said Levy, half-kneeling to whisper in his ear. "I don't know exactly what's wrong, but it's OK. I'm right here." Then she quickly sat, her cheeks flushed, and fiddled with her book.

"Shrimp—" choked out Gajeel finally. She looked up at him and bit her lip at the sight of his obvious misery. "Just—stay for a while, will you?" Levy nodded and gave him a smile. Then she went back to her book.

Gajeel didn't touch her, but just having her next to him was enough. He could only breathe when he smelled her. He could only smile when she was there. He couldn't forgive himself, but he needed her there next to him. He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes, breathing her in. It was enough, for now.


	2. Impossible Dream

I own nothing. All rights belong to Hiro Mashima.

" _The ideal—what is the ideal? A figment. An abstraction. A static abstraction, abstracted from life. It is a fragment of the before or the after. It is a crystallized aspiration, or a crystallized remembrance: crystallized, set, finished. It is a thing set apart, in the great storehouse of eternity, the storehouse of finished things. We do not speak of things crystallized and set apart. We speak of the instant, the immediate self, the very plasm of the self."_

 _-D.H. Lawrence, "The Poetry of the Present"_

Levy's feelings towards Gajeel Redfox were a complex, entangled web of thought that she generally avoided. It was best to leave things as they were, to continue on with the business of life. It was best to forget the sweet, mysterious daydreams that threatened to surface every time she looked at Gajeel. She was young, she was smart, and although her mild exterior fooled many people, she was exceptionally ambitious. Why should she worry about Gajeel Redfox? She had to tend to her life as it was now. She couldn't be bothered about the future.

This train of thought left Levy hunched on an upended barrel behind Fairy Tail's bar on a silent, snowy afternoon. It had not always been silent. In fact, three hours earlier, the guild members had been energetically brawling with all the enthusiasm they could possibly muster. The tremendous noise and very present danger of being hit with flying objects led Levy to take refuge behind the bar with her book, where Mira's presence mostly deflected any potential aggression.

She didn't usually mind the brawls—that was Fairy Tail, after all—but Team Shadow Gear had taken on a unique mission, and she needed to research. So absorbed in her books was she that she didn't even notice when snow started falling outside the windows at an alarming rate, when the brawl subsided and people began leaving, or when everyone had left altogether, leaving Levy alone behind the bar. Even the kind-hearted Mira was absent, having gone to tend a sick Lisanna.

Levy squinted harder at the page, reading and processing as fast as she could (with the aid of her glasses). She was running out of time. This whole affair had started with a mission. Team Shadow Gear had set out to a remote village a week ago to address some minor magical mischief that had been occurring. The team had easily cornered a cowering little cat, which the villagers (to Levy's horror and subsequent regret) had promptly killed. The following morning, as Team Shadow Gear were about to leave, the villagers had found a gruesome execution scene, with an ancient runic script written on the wall above the mutilated cattle.

Levy was barely able to recognize the script, it was so obscure. She had left Jet and Droy to defend the village as best they could, and she hurried back to her books to find what on earth this script was. It was slow business, and she had barely been at it for a day when Jet and Droy sent word; a child had been caught in the crossfire of a skirmish and died. Levy had promptly thrown up in the corner and she hadn't slept since. Children were _dying_ because of her own stupid ignorance.

As it was, Levy hadn't slept for approximately 37 hours, hadn't eaten for approximately 15 hours, and hadn't drank anything for approximately 11 hours. She huddled at the guild day and night, poring over her books, cross-referencing with the library, and scribbling notes. It was a mark of Levy's devotion as a bibliophile that none of her guild members noticed anything out of the ordinary. It was almost Christmas time, and the guild was absorbed by preparations. Few were out on missions, and many had fallen prey to the flu that was running around. Nobody had noticed anything out of the ordinary about Levy's behavior—well, nobody except Gajeel Redfox.

Levy scribbled frantically in the margin, perched on her barrel behind the bar. Her mind, so adept at analyzing and summarizing texts, was on the brink of despair. _How could I have let this happen?_ The thought haunted her and lurked, mocking and bitter, behind every corner of rationality. _How could I have let this happen?_ Why couldn't she figure out this text? She was so, so _stupid_! Levy threw her quill down, tears welling in her eyes.

"Oy, Shrimp." Levy jumped at the sound of Gajeel's voice. "Are you OK?" The iron dragonslayer had appeared at the bar, leaning forward with a concerned expression on his face. Levy glared at him. She didn't need any interruptions, not from anyone.

"Shut up!" Levy snapped. "Leave me alone!" Then she picked up her quill with grim determination and continued scribbling, trying to ignore the latest wash of guilt that had taken up residence in her weary mind. She did not notice Gajeel silently leap over the bar and take up a position behind her, or see his apprehensive eyes rest worriedly on her tense shoulders. Suddenly Levy stopped scribbling abruptly. She had been going about this all wrong. She had been too focused on the unfamiliar characters and vocabulary to notice the syntax. Despite the frequent tense and case changes, it bore a striking similarity to her native language.

"Damn it!" she whispered bitterly, setting about the final translation. "I'm so stupid!" The cat had been the familiar of a relatively peaceful, but very powerful magician that lived in the secluded caves near the village. The villagers merely needed to offer three young white kittens and swear to leave all cats alone from that time, and the magician would leave them in peace. Levy sealed the message in an envelope and rose hurriedly—only to stagger as her legs gave out of their own accord.

"Whoa, easy there." Levy looked up at Gajeel, who was coming in and out of focus above her. "Just rest, Levy."

"No," she gasped, trying in vain to stand. "I have to get this to Jet and Droy."

"Let me do that," said Gajeel, snatching the letter from her hand. "I'll take care of it."

"No…" protested Levy weakly. This was her fault and she needed to take care of it, but her body just wouldn't…cooperate…

Levy's mind stayed awake, even when her body gave in. She dreamt of a mysterious, sweet feeling that stole through her every time she saw Gajeel Redfox. She dreamt of an impossible future, preserved and protected deep in her unconscious. Weakened as her mind was by exhaustion, by fever, by mental strain, the impossible thought was able to slip from its glass cage and wander to the forefront of her consciousness, unhindered by the conventions of speech and tact.

"Gajeel," she murmured. "Gajeel, I'm sorry." One Gajeel Redfox sat by her bed, waiting for Wendy to arrive anxiously, but Levy's delirium elected to disregard that particular presence.

"Gajeel, I never…I didn't mean for her to _die_. The syntax…and I wanted to hate you, but I just…I couldn't, and now…now I l—"

"What's wrong?" asked Wendy. Gajeel jumped back from Levy's bed, having been caught with one hand suspiciously close to Levy's hair.

"She's sick," he grunted. After Levy had collapsed, he had given the message to a frightened Warren and had him contact Wendy. Under Wendy's care, the small blue-haired mage was soon healed, but her eyes remained shut.

"Why is she still asleep?" asked Gajeel shortly, anxious.

"She's sleeping," said Wendy matter-of-factly. "Her body needs rest, food, and water, and I can't give those to her. You'll look after her, won't you? I have to go to Lisanna." And with that, she was gone and Gajeel was left standing by Levy's side, his feelings running amuck. What had Levy been about to say?

In Levy's mind, the delicate thought pattered softly back to its glass cage, once again confined to her innermost thoughts. Her feelings for Gajeel were fragile, timid. Levy could not reconcile the sweet dream with the harsh, cold air of real life. Not yet, anyway.


End file.
